


Cooking With Heat

by CobaltStargazer



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Cunnilingus, Dinner, Domestic Bliss(sort of), F/M, Intense Sex, sexy talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-11
Updated: 2014-10-11
Packaged: 2018-02-20 18:08:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2438096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CobaltStargazer/pseuds/CobaltStargazer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story about cooking, in and out of the kitchen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cooking With Heat

Spencer had thought Elle was kidding when she'd said she was going to teach him to make lasagna. He'd had to learn to cook at a young age because of his mother's illness, so he wasn't entirely hopeless, but given his work hours and sometimes being away from home for days at a time, it was easier for him to either order take out or make something simple. But she insisted they make a grocery run when she'd picked him up at work, and she'd crossed off the items on her list as she selected them from the shelves. It was the first time they'd prepared a meal together in his kitchen, since when she'd been there before they'd gotten pizza delivered or microwaved some kind of convenience food.

"I guess Italian food is sort of similar to Cuban food."

He said it as he took the dish out of the oven, the thick mitts protecting his hands. Cooking was like chemistry in a way, mixing ingredients together in a specific way, and hopefully nothing would catch on fire or explode. Spencer brought the dish to the table, where Elle was sitting with a glass of wine. She'd helped him get started, then retreated from the kitchen. Reid was smart enough to make pasta, and she trusted him not to give her food poisoning.

"Sort of, yeah. Cuban food's a little spicier, but other than that it has a lot in common." He'd chosen a good red wine to go with the food, and she swirled it in the glass as she held it up to the overhead light. It turned the light a murky color. She could smell the aroma coming up from the dish, and it made her realize she was starving. He cut a generous piece for her and set it on the plate. She'd made the salad. She tucked into her dinner, and he tried not to look too anxious while he watched her. Her expression went from thoughtful to appraising, and after she washed the bite down with some wine, she gave him a thumbs up.

"You're hot, smart, _and_ you can cook. That makes you a triple threat."

His knee bumped hers under the table, and she gave him a warm smile. "You're the first person I've cooked for in a long time," he told her, toying with his silverware. 

"We can start a new tradition, then. The next time you come see me I'll cook for you."

They ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes, the clacking of utensils against plates the only sound. As he cut himself a second piece of lasagna, Spencer asked, "So what did you and Garcia talk about?"

Elle shrugged. "We went out for coffee and talked about girl stuff, that's all."

He had the feeling that it was more than that, but he decided not to press. She would tell him when and if she felt like it, not before. The profiler continued to eat, enjoying the quiet. Just the companionship of someone he liked - loved - made meals something to savor. "We should go out and do something tomorrow night. See a movie or something."

"Sure. I haven't been to a movie in a theater in a while. Even if you want to see _Guardians_ again."

He laughed good-naturedly, and his knee made contact with hers again. He knew he had a tendency to geek out at science fiction films, and even go so far as to dress up for cons, and her appreciation of that quality in him made him lov her even more. Sometimes he wondered when the bubble was going to burst, but only when he was letting his insecurities take the wheel.

They talked amiably while they ate, and when they'd eaten half the pan of lasagna Elle said, "I think if I have another bite you'll have to roll me into the bedroom. Can I help you clean up?"

"Sure, that'd be great."

Between them, they got the table cleared and the dishes in the built in machine. Spencer picked up the bottle of wine and carried into the living room, where he and Elle took up space on the couch. He'd rented some classic movies, and he chose one randomly and put it into the DVD player. She hummed contentedly into her glass as he tucked her against his side. Her comfort at his instinctive touch was something she'd grown to need. Especially when she knew he could go from 'boy next door' to touching her in precisely the right way in less than five minutes.

"Reid?"

"Yeah?"

There was a silence, and when he looked at her she was studying him. After a minute, she just shook her head, a smile hovering at the corners of her mouth. She was not a woman who expressed herself either readily or easily, but he could see it in her eyes, the thing she wanted to say.

"Just...you know."

"Yeah, I know."

The combination of the heavy meal and the wine added to the relaxation of just watching television for the evening, and at some point Elle must have drifted off, because when she opened her eyes the hands on the wall clock had moved and Spencer had also dropped into sleep. She shook him gently, and after a second or two he said "Whuh?" He knuckled one eye, looked at the blank screen of the television. 

"Looks like we missed the end of it. Guess we'll have to try watching it again later."

It was past eleven by then, and she said, "I think we could both use a shower. Separately," she clarified when he tried to leer at her. Reid couldn't leer worth a damn. She was still sleepy from having eaten so much. Somehow they got up from the sofa, and he padded into the bathroom while she turned off the TV and locked up. She collected an over-sized shirt from her bag, then waited for him to finish up. When the water stopped running, Elle hovered until the door opened, and Spencer walked out naked, a bit of toothpaste on his chin.

Okay, so she looked. How could she _not_ look?

She made quick work of her own shower, not wanting the hot water to run out, then toweled herself dry. Given the little show Reid had just put on for her, she was tempted to go into the bedroom in the altogether, then decided against it. He knew how easy it was for him to get to her, so why encourage him? The rest of the lights had been turned off when she exited the bathroom, but there was a light still on in Spencer's room.

He was lying on his side facing the wall when Elle got in the bed, and she turned the bedside lamp off. "Are you still naked?"

"I put on some briefs." He had his eyes closed, one bare arm exposed. Behind him, she made a noise, an amused sound. The covers rustled, and he felt her hand on his back. In the dark, Spencer opened his eyes. 

"I haven't told you lately what a beautiful cock you have."

Just the way she said it, the word _cock[_ , made his heartbeat accelerate. Her hand was between his shoulder blades, fingers gently flexing. "Yeah?" He'd shut his eyes again, and his breathing stayed even. He heard her make another noise, something that sounded like 'hmm', and her palm flattened against his skin. His back muscles tensed and relaxed.

She felt the flex, and her voice kept its normal pitch when she added, "I think about it. Randomly, you know? I'll be at work in the store, or paying bills, or even just walking the dog, and I get this mental image of it. It makes my mouth go dry. And it gets me wet in other places."

And this was why he never wanted her to talk dirty to him over the phone, because his imagination was far too vivid. Her hand hadn't moved. "That sounds distracting." His eyes were closed, but it was an effort. In the darkness of the bedroom, Elle chuckled.

"It is distracting," she confirmed, and she knew she'd only have control of the situation as long as he didn't turn over. "I'll be doing something completely innocent, and bam, I'll picture your dick. I think I might be a little obsessed, Dr. Reid. Do you think that's normal?"

His breath hitched, and he was aware that she felt it because her hand was braced against his back. "Thinking about something you're fascinated with is perfectly healthy, Ms. Greenaway," he replied. "The mind carries us to places we'd never imagine, all we have to do is let it." His briefs were getting a little snug. He felt her take her hand away and instantly missed the gentle pressure.

Elle began to draw a circle in the air, just a hair's breadth away from Spencer's back, and she returned to touching him very lightly. The muscles of his back were lean and well-defined. She began to trace an invisible pattern from one shoulder to the other, feeling his deltoids beneath her fingertip. Her thighs squeezed together, providing friction. "I'm thinking about it right now, actually. What it feels like to touch it, wrap my fingers around it. Play with your balls..."

He said something under his breath, and she smiled though she knew he couldn't see her do it. "Cup them in my palm, weigh them almost. Makes me _wet_. I've wrecked several pairs of underwear. I keep thinking I should mail you a pair as a keepsake, but I don't know if sending dirty underwear through the mail is a crime or not. Do you think I could get in trouble?"

The covers rustled as Spencer turned over, and despite the lack of light Elle saw that he was smiling. His mouth found hers, and the kiss was warm and wet and insistent. "I think you're definitely in trouble," he said when he finally tore his lips away from hers. How was it possible that she could make him want her this much? She was playing with his hair with one hand, touching the small of his back with the other. His erection was butting against her thigh. One of his hands found her hip, and she actually let out a purr when his fingers slipped around the curve of it to touch her beneath the shirt. "No underwear, Elle?" 

"It's like I told you. I didn't want to risk wrecking a pair. Sometimes it's just safer to go without."

He tried to laugh, but it was a constricted noise. His fingers had a mind of their own, and he had begun to work on her while she squirmed delightfully. "Oh, God, don't stop doing that," she gasped into his ear, and she wasn't play-acting now. She was mouthing his jawline, and then her lips moved lower and found the scar. She could never give him enough, touch him enough, love him enough.

Were scars supposed to be erogenous zones? Was it normal for it to feel _good_ when she was kissing him there? Spencer was lost to the sensation of Elle's mouth on his permanently marked flesh, but his busy fingers continued to play with her. His other hand was on her breast through the shirt. She was trying to work his briefs down. Her teeth closed on the skin just above the healed wound, and he growled when the confining underwear finally came off. He ached to be inside her. But rather than slip into her right away, he began to work his way down.

Elle whined when his face disappeared from view, because she knew he could torture her exquisitely down there. She had her lower lip between her teeth, and the shirt was rucked up high enough to expose her breasts. "Spencer..."

He began to lap at her, licking the length of her with an eager tongue. His erection rubbed against the sheet, and he groaned into her cunt at the friction. The vibration of it made her arch. She was his chalice to take communion from, sweeter than the rarest vintage. Her hips rolled in response to what he was doing to her, and she pulled at her nipples with her thumbs and forefingers. He worked her up to a climax, and she really thought he was going to strand her there for a second, either that or prolong the pleasure until she went insane, but when she grated out, " _Damn it, Reid_!" he sent her sailing over the brink into orgasm.

Elle had just barely finishing shuddering her way through the aftershocks when Spencer crawled back up the bed, and he replaced his tongue with his cock, penetrating her with a sensation that was like sliding into warm butter. It was too dark in the room to see her eyes, but he knew his rolled into the back of his head a little, so who was to say that hers didn't as well? He held himself stock-still, every muscle trembling, straining to see her. Scars and all, she was his brave, flawed Elle.

She pulled his hair, bringing his mouth to hers, and the taste of herself on his lips made her moan. He was moving now, claiming her inside and out. The dark didn't matter. She could have found him if she'd been blind. 'I love you' didn't begin to cover it. The entire world was his body above hers. Her short nails dug into the small of his back.

He felt her tightening around him, and he slowed down. He peppered her upturned face with kisses, finally reaching her mouth. So close...he was so close...

He finished before she did, his release sucking the oxygen out of his lungs just as she came. His mouth claimed hers, and in the trembling aftermath he whispered, "I love you," into her ear. She brushed damp, tousled hair away from his forehead, and it was probably her imagination that she could see his eyes. 

"I love you too, Reid. Spencer." She was still holding him, her thighs forming a cradle. "For as long as you can stand it."


End file.
